The crash of waves from the sea outside. The smell of oil and ozone in the workshops. The itch of her clothes against her skin in the places where the whip’s cuts still stung.
The bile rising in her throat as Thassco told her she was to provide a “special” service for an important client…
Nami knew she’d been pushing her luck, stretching the limits of her free time. She was so close to sealing a deal, getting a loan agreed. She was finally going to do it: buy her freedom, get away from all this, make a real life for herself. And extend a hand to help others whose suffering she had shared.
But Thassco – he’d decided that as an adult, now, Nami was old enough to do a new kind of work for him. She knew the punishment for defiance; she could still feel the pain of it. She had to endure this.
Over there, also on his knees, Jerrin – different clients had different preferences. A Twi’lek, lithe, hauntingly pretty; Nami’s brother in slavery. She’d sometimes wished he could be more to her than that, but Jerrin wasn’t into girls. She’d been content to have him as a friend, a confidant, a supporter, and to try to be the same to him.
Not long after this day, he’d be sold on. One of the “special” clients making Thassco an offer he couldn’t refuse. At least, that was what Nami had been told. Looking back, she wondered how many times she’d been lied to. She’d wanted so badly to believe he was safe, somewhere, somehow…
But in the moment of this memory, she knew none of that. She was focused on keeping quiet and still, bearing her humiliation as Jerrin bore his, while Thassco and his clients carried on their discussion. To them, the two slaves were little more than pleasing furniture, objects for their enjoyment.
